


Do Not Suffer Needlessly

by Ithiliana



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-11-14
Updated: 2009-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-02 18:59:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithiliana/pseuds/Ithiliana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lijah and Sean spend some quality time together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do Not Suffer Needlessly

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Aprilkat.

"Hurry up, and wait," Lijah mumbled as he stood, feet vaguely cold in the hobbit Feet. Waiting for the right light. Waiting for everybody on the set to be in the right place at the right moment doing the right things. He shifted as his stomach growled. He hadn't eaten anything this morning before reporting to his trailer for Feet and make-up . Having to start work so early made it hard to get up in time to eat breakfast. He swallowed, looked around for some water. Something.

An elbow nudged him. "Want some?"

Dark, delicious scent slid past Lijah's guard. He inhaled, mouth watering, and looked up and to his right to see Sean, looking even bigger than he was clad in Boromir's mail, leather and that black velvet cloak. He was standing beside Lijah holding two doughnuts and a styrofoam cup that steamed in the chill morning air.

Speechless, Lijah nodded, took the doughnut Sean handed him, feeling it warm and greasy against his skin. Sean raised the cup to his mouth, tilted it, throat moving as he swallowed, then casually offered the cup to Lijah. He took it in his left hand, awkwardly, and drank, almost choking at the strongly sweetened coffee, hot and biting, dark bitterness underlying the taste of sugar. It warmed him all the way down.

He took two gulps, then handed the cup back to Sean who finished it, crumpling the styrofoam cup and tossing it into a handy garbage can.

"Thanks," said Lijah as he bit into the doughnut hastily, looking away from the green eyes intent on him, avoiding watching how the lips, framed by the short beard, quirked at the corners. Boromir's make-up hid the fine lines that Lijah knew were there, had watched night after night, studying how they framed lips and eyes, the legacy of laugher and life. So much laughter.

Yesterday, they'd been filming the fight.

Lijah had learned early how films are never shot in any sequence relating to plot or character development. Shots are planned around a complex range of criteria. Lijah didn't even want to try to think about the number of things Pete and his teams must have juggled when planning this film.

Actors always claimed that they are asked to do the most demanding and emotionally draining work on the first days on a shoot when they've only begun working with the cast and the director, only started to get a sense of the character. Lijah knew there that was just actor's paranoia, but he was beginning to wonder if there wasn't some perverse logic operating in how they were filming the final confrontation between Frodo and Boromir. The first thing they filmed was the fight scene, the final confrontation between Frodo and Boromir who, consumed by the Ring, changes in a flash from protector and friend concerned about Frodo's welfare, to a raging demanding force, consumed with desire.

Sean and Lijah agreed that they were lucky to be able to shoot this scene together without having to use the scale doubles. As Peter had planned, careful establishment of the size disparity between hobits and men would allow for some shots to be filmed with the main actors. The camera angles would also help in this case.

So Lijah had stood, watching Sean laughing with the camera crew, something about a bet on a game, then saw him turn away, take several breaths and become Boromir.

_Standing on the hill in front of Frodo, striding forward, reaching out, face twisted. Lust. Shivering, Frodo backed away, stumbling up the hill, turning to run and falling. Greedy hands reaching, grabbing, gripping hard, pressing flesh to the bone, tripping, falling, the leaves on the hillside slippery as ice. Bodies twisted, tense, wrapped around each other in desperate conflict_

And then they'd gotten up and done it again. And again.

And again.

Boromir had to drag Frodo, struggling, toward himself and search for the Ring. It was all carefully choreographed, and they'd rehearsed it.

But on the fifth take, Lijah tripped over his own feet. The prosthetics made keeping his balance hard at times even after weeks of practice. He fell ahead of his cue and forward toward Sean instead of turning and falling up the hill. He sometimes wondered what kind of fetish Peter had that Frodo seemed to spend half his takes falling on his back.

Surprised, Sean had lunged to catch Lijah, slipping and falling in his turn, and they rolled downhill until stopped by a tree root in a hollow.

All part of a day's work. Nobody was hurt.

Lijah shivered as he swallowed the last sweet bites of the doughnut, licked his lips.

There had been that strange moment, before Sean untangled his arms and legs from Lijah's and stood, offering him a hand up, that they lay pressed together. At that moment, Lijah's breath had caught in his throat, feeling the unmistakable pressure from the hard cock pressing against his belly.

And Sean had winked at Lijah, pulling him effortlessly to his feet, the calloused hand strong and warm, wrapped around Lijah's.

"Places," someone shouted, and Lijah swallowed nervously, remembered not to wipe his greasy hands on his costume, and walked forward with Sean. To shoot the next scene.

*******

The next scene was the talk in the woods during a chance meeting when Boromir is gathering wood. Frodo has left the Fellowship and is walking alone, hoping for some relief from the pain and pressure of the Ring, the growing fear that he must leave the Fellowship before the conflict between Aragorn and Boromir over what road to take brings them to disaster.

"And…action!"

"None of us should wander alone. You least of all, so much depends on you. Frodo? I know what you want. You suffer. I see it day by day…"

"Cut!"

"Fuck! Sorry, Pete!"

Lijah winced. The fourth take, and they hadn't gotten past Boromir's opening speech. Sean kept blowing it. And that was something new. Lijah had never seen Sean blow a line like he'd been blowing this one.

Sean turned away, stretching his arms above his head, his body arching back, chest expanding as he breathed deeply.

Fuck, Lijah thought. He didn't need this, not now. He looked away, looked at the ground, tried to focus.

Frodo was lost, drowning in sorrow. Not wanting to jump on Boromir, wrapping arms and legs around him to see what he'd do. Not imagining what he would look like free of the heavy cloak, the mail, the red tunic, the layers of leather. Not imagining what his skin would taste like if you licked him, moving from the tanned throat down the smooth chest….

Lijah shut his own eyes, breathing deeply, focusing on the small sounds of the crew getting set to start again. Frodo. Where was Frodo.

"All right. Again, action!"

Boromir paused, arms full of wood. "None of us should wander alone. You least of all, so much depends on you. Frodo?"

Lijah held his breath, willing Sean not to fuck this one up. Willing himself not to fuck it up.

"I know why you seek solitude. You suffer. I see it day by day. Are you sure you do not suffer needlessly? There are other ways, Frodo. Other paths that we might take."

Frodo was tempted by the understanding and concern in Boromir's voice. "I know what you would say, and it would seem like wisdom, but for the warning in my heart."

"Warning? Against what?" Boromir's tone and body language showed his shock.

But he moved, relentless, towards Frodo who stepped back.

We're all afraid, Frodo, but to let that fear drive us to destroy what hope we have. Don't you see, it's madness."

"There is no other way."

"I ask only for the strength to defend my people!" The anger pushed the pitch of his voice higher, and he threw the wood to the ground. Then turning to Frodo, he stretched out his hand. "If you would but lend me the Ring…"

"No!" Frodo retreated, wishing he could turn and run, fearing to take his eyes off Boromir, chilled at the glint in Boromir's eyes, a look that seemed at once strange and strangely familiar.

Boromir hesitated. "Why do you recoil? I am no thief!"

Swallowing, Frodo tried one last appeal. "You are not yourself!"

But even as he spoke, Frodo knew he had failed as the green eyes blazed, the pleasant face twisting. Boromir's voice dropped, a snarl ringing through the woods.

"What chance do you think you have? They will find you. They will take the Ring. And you will beg for death before the end!"

Despairing, Frodo turned to leave, moving as quickly as he could on the steep hillside, slipping on the leaves.

"You fool! It is not yours save by unhappy chance."

"Cut!"

Pete bounced out of his chair, came to Sean's side. "That was good, really good. Now, let's talk about…"

Lijah blew out a long breath as he watched as Pete led Sean away, talking fast. Maybe there would be time to find where the coffee and doughnuts were. Because he was still hungry.

********

The commissary tent was noisy and hot. Lijah shoved his plate away, the pasta half eaten. He'd been hungry earlier, but this food had no savour. He'd forced down as much as he could, aware that he had another long session scheduled after lunch. They'd be shooting more of the the Parth Galen scenes this afternoon."Penny for your thoughts, Lij." Billy said.

Dom said, "He's not thinking."

"Then what's he doing?"

"Dunno. He's been walking into walls all day. Maybe he's sick."

Lijah ducked when Dom reached across the table to feel his forehead.

"I'm fine," he said.

"I dunno, man, how many times did you and Bean blow that scene this morning?"

"It wasn't me! Sean kept screwing up lines."

"He's right, Dom," Billy said. "and I know why."

"What?" Lijah, nervous, looked at Billy who covered a great deal of intelligence with never-ending banter.

Billy struck a pose, hand on heart, and intoned, "Gazing into those big blue eyes of yours, Lij, would enough make anyone forget their lines. That's what Astin says!"

"That's right! Especially when they're as old as Bean. The mind starts going after forty you know, it's just tragic."

"Fuck off," Lijah said, standing, piling his dishes back on his tray.

Billy leaped dramatically to his feet. "What's he doing?" He pitched his voice loud enough to cause the people around them to stop eating or talking and look at them.

Dom projected even louder. "He's leaving!"

"NO!"

Shaking his head, Lijah wove his way through the crowd. Best thing was to ignore them.

"See, Lij, we know our lines." Their laughter followed him.

Lijah had to detour around a table full of uruk-hai, their long legs stretched out blocking the aisle, but he managed to make it through without mishap only to stumble when he heard a familiar voice from the side.

"Lijah!"

"Sean." Lijah paused, nodding a greeting to Ian and Andy who were at the same table. They were still eating, but Sean was finished, sprawled across most of one bench, leaning on the table, braced on one elbow.

"Sorry about this morning, mate. I don't know where me mind was."

"It's all right." Lijah's mind seemed to go blank. Sean was out of costume, presumably finished with his shots for the day. He wore jeans, a loose brown sweater. Lijah told himself he should stop staring at where the zipper stopped just short of Sean's throat, the tanned skin striking against the dark wool, then jumped when Sean spoke again.

"Is that all you've had to eat?"

"Huh?" Lijah looked at his tray. The half-eaten pasta was congealing on the plate next to the empty milk glass. "Well, yeah."

"Not enough for a full day's work. Where's your fruit? Mum always said if you skip the fruit, you'll get the mollycoddles."

"The what?" Lijah set the tray down on an empty table. He suspected that Billy and Dom and Orli liked to make up words just to fool the Americans, but he hadn't thought Sean would stoop so low.

Sean shrugged. "Something you get when you don't eat your fruit. Here."

He leaned across the table, his sweater riding up to show pale skin, and snagged an apple off Ian's tray. Sean tossed it to Lijah who caught it, the smooth fruit rounding easily into his hand, but looked at Ian. He'd protested the loudness of Lijah's music during make-up the past two mornings, and Lijah didn't want to cause any more problems.

Ian smiled at him. "I don't know how dangerous the condition of mollycoddles, whatever that may be, is," Ian said. "But it's not something you should risk. Although," he directed a glare worthy of Gandalf at Sean, who seemed remarkably untouched by it, "next time, steal your gifts from somebody else."

"I knew that, as a member of the Fellowship, you would want to share," Sean said, smiling at Lijah who decided to leave. Now.

Leaving the tent and squinting in the bright light, Lijah bit down on the apple. It was small and crisp, the red skin first resisting his teeth, then, as he bit harder, releasing a flood of sweet juice onto his tongue. Appetite restored, Lijah ate the fruit greedily, licking his sticky fingers when he finished, then tossing away the core.

*******

Sore and aching from all the takes of running down the hill and falling, frustrated by the teasing from Billy and Dom in between shots of the hobbit farewell scene, Lijah fled back to his trailer after he was through with make-up. He didn't really want to speak to anyone though there'd been some talk of going out to dinner.

He removed his contacts and took a long shower, running the water as hot as he could stand it, then pulled on the jeans and t-shirt that were on top of the largest pile on the floor. He sat down to pull on his sneakers. The chair was so soft that he decided to rest. He'd close his eyes for a few minutes then leave. He was pretty sure there was left-over pizza back at his apartment, and that'd be enough. He wasn't very hungry anyway.

"Lijah!"

Somebody was shaking him.

"Wake up."

Lijah yawned, forced his eyes open. The trailer was dark. Light spilled through the open door from outside, outlining the large dark figure standing over him. Blinking, Lijah realized he'd fallen asleep. He rubbed his eyes, confused, dizzy.

"What?"

"We're going for supper, remember?"

It was Sean.

Lijah woke fully and sat up abruptly. "Ow!"

"What's wrong?" Sean released his shoulder.

"Shit, you scared me, man." Lijah rubbed his neck which was sore and stiff from sleeping at an angle. He was so tired he hurt all over. "I'm not going. Too tired. I'll go home and crash."

Sean stepped back, hair shining gold in the light behind him, his face in shadow.

"And supper?"

Lijah stood, stiffly, not liking how Sean loomed over him when he was sitting in the chair. "Left-overs," he said shortly.

"Not a healthy meal."

"You're not my mother!" Lijah moved to look for his glasses and tripped over his sneakers.

Sean caught him, set him back on his feet, turning him around, the large hands settling on his shoulders, rubbing.

"Nope, I'm not," he said. "Thank goodness. Wouldn't take the job if it was on offer. Just think of me as a concerned colleague who knows if you get sick, this whole film will suffer."

The warm hands slid up around his neck, thumbs rubbing gently right on the sore spot in back. Lijah sighed, and felt himself begin to relax. Sean increased the pressure, moving down his spine. Tightness dissolved under the firm strokes. The clever hands found knots in muscles, including the one under his right shoulder blade that Lijah hadn't even realized hurt.

"Ummmm, more there," he asked, and Sean obliged, increasing the pressure.

Lijah drew a deeper breath, released it slowly. He could feel Sean behind him. The darkness was safe. Leaning back, Lijah felt Sean move forward, hands sliding back up and over Lijah's shoulders, body warm and close.

Silence.

Lijah leaned back more, tilting his head against Sean's chest. The hardness pressed against Lijah's back made his cock twitch. Now. Lijah held his breath, waiting.

Sean pushed him upright, gently, and patted him on the shoulder. "Ready for supper?"

Lijah blinked. What the fuck. "Supper?"

"Food. Molly Malone's remember? Wake up, Lij!"

Light flared and Lijah squinted, turning to see Sean holding his glasses out to him.

Lijah put them on so he could be sure to glare in the right direction.

"I don't think you'd better drive," Sean said slowly, looking Lijah up and down. "You'd probably end up in a ditch. Come on."

He reached out to grasp Lijah's shoulder and, pivoting, pushed him ahead, one hand settling warm around Lijah's neck, thumb rubbing gently at the spot where Lijah's neck met his shoulder.

Lijah thought about twisting away, insisting on driving himself, but changed his mind as he felt the warmth under his skin growing, pooling, then spilling down his back straight to his cock.

Instead, he let Sean guide him out to his car.

*******

Sean was the first to give his drink order, then he excused himself.

Lijah watched him disappear into the men's room.

"Hey, man!"

A sharp elbow in his ribs made Lijah jump. He looked at Dom, confused. Dom poked him.

"Order something to drink, dummy," Dom said. "You're holding things up."

"Uh, just water," Lijah said without looking at their waitress and slid his chair back.

Sean had said nothing on the drive over, just whistled show tunes off-key. They'd met the others who'd been on the Parth Galen shot at Molly Malone's.

The change from the dark car where he'd sat breathing the scent of Sean slightly flavoured with tobacco to the dark, crowded bar ringing with laughter and folk music had been jarring. He'd followed Sean up the long stairs to the restaurant over the bar. As soon as they'd gone through the doors with the stained glass windows, they'd found Viggo, Lawrence, Dom, Billy, and Orlando. John had refused to go out in public because of the rash caused by his prosthetics.

Now, surrounded by light and talk and the smells of food, feeling the rhythm of the bass resounding through the floorboards into his feet, Lijah came to a decision. He had to know.

He stood. None of the others at the table, talking with great concentration, noticed, and he was able to leave without comment. Dodging waitresses and customers, Lijah soon stood in front of the dark wooden door to the men's room.

Taking a deep breath, Lijah pushed the swinging door open. He went in, moving as quietly as he could on the tile floor, and stood just inside the closed door. It was in the hands of the gods, whatever gods there were, and with Sean, Lijah wasn't prepared to take a bet about that. But the stall doors were open, and Sean was alone.

Lijah backed up, braced his back against the door, and stood, waiting.

Sean leisurely adjusted himself and zipped his trousers. He turned to the row of washbasins along the opposite wall, and ran hot water. Soaping his hands thoroughly, he rinsed them. He pulled a paper towel out of the dispenser and dried his hands slowly, leaning against the sink, head tilted, watching Lijah, saying nothing.

In the silence, Lijah thought he could still hear a faint ghost of the music from downstairs and, for a moment, wished desperately he were there instead. But he had to say something or run.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Lijah winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He sounded like a kid.

"Doing what?" Sean's response sounded perfectly polite to Lijah, but the grin was X-rated.

"What you were doing in the trailer."

Sean straightened, balled the paper towel and tossed it into the garbage.

Lijah held his breath as Sean moved across the floor, wondering not for the first time how such a big man could be so light on his feet. Sean stopped in front of Lijah, not quite touching, but close enough for Lijah to feel warm breath on his face as Sean spoke.

"What was I doing in the trailer, Lijah?" Sean laid his right hand on the door, elbow bent, leaning over Lijah. "Something wrong with my backrub technique?"

"There's nothing wrong with your technique," Lijah blurted, feeling himself turning red.

Wanting some response, desperate to break through the façade, he reached the short distance necessary to press his palm against Sean's groin. The brown sweater, which wasn't tucked in, masked the bulge which Lijah could feel clearly through the layers of cloth.

"That's what I mean!" Lijah said, feeling triumph at the look on Sean's face, one new to Lijah.

Sean's left hand covered Lijah's, pressing. "I hope you're not saying there's something wrong there," he said, and leaned the additional few inches necessary for the kiss.

Belying the laziness of his movements earlier, Sean's open mouth was demanding, the rasp of Boromir's beard harsh against Lijah's skin. Jarred back against the door, Lijah felt a hard leg slide between his, as Sean's tongue and lips forced Lijah's mouth open. Sean's hand released Lijah's to slide between his legs, pressing against Lijah's cock, moving wickedly against him.

Pulling back slightly, Sean said, "Or if there's something wrong, you have the same problem," Sean said, lips moving against Lijah's. "What do you think we should do about it?"

Lijah swallowed, eyes shut, panting a moment before he could speak. "If you say one fucking word about food, I'm going to kick you in the balls."

Sean laughed. His body was pressed so close to Lijah's that he could feel the vibrations in his chest and belly.

"Fair enough. But nothing's going to happen here."

"Why not?"

Lijah couldn't believe he'd just said what he'd said.

"Three reasons," Sean said. "Which I'll tell you if you promise no kicking."

"Okay."

"First, it would be bloody stupid to do anything in public. Second, I am hungry and do want my supper. Third, and most important, you're worth more than a quickie in the loo. I want you all night. At least. In my bed."

Shocked, Lijah opened his eyes to see the utterly serious look on Sean's face, green eyes narrowed in concentration.

"All right," Lijah managed to say.

Sean released him, stepping back, grinning. "Bloody good, then," he said. "Now how about that supper? You need a good meal under your belt if you're going to spend most of the night fucking your brains out."

*******

Sean pulled Lijah's t-shirt up and off in one smooth movement, tossing it to one side where it landed on the floor. Lijah unnbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pushing them down, kicking them aside. He'd picked them up off the floor back at his trailer, he wasn't worried about them ending up on Sean's floor.

"Just...stand there." Sean stepped back, eyes dark.

Lijah straightened, feeling self-conscious, licked his lips nervously. Sean smiled, then raised his hand to the zipper of his sweater.

"Let me," Lijah moved forward at Sean's nod, to grab the ring and pull the zipper slowly down. He'd been wanting to do this since lunch. The zipper ended about halfway down, and the sweater gapped invitingly. Lijah leaned forward, hands on Sean's shoulders, pressing against the hard muscles under soft wool. Rising slightly on tiptoe, he sucked then licked the soft skin of Sean's throat, feeling the warm pulse against his tongue, licking down the smooth chest.

Sean's arms circled Lijah's ribs, holding him tight. Lijah slid his hands under the sweater, pushing it down over Sean's arms, ran his palm over the blue tattoo on the left shoulder. He'd heard about it but had never seen it since they didn't share a trailer. Sean pulled Lijah closer, thrust forward. Lijah wrapped his arms as far around Sean as he could, enjoying the different sensations of fabric and skin rubbing against him.

Sean sighed, released him, and pulled away long enough to undo the trousers and kick them off. "How many times have you bottomed, Lijah?"

Lijah squared his shoulders. "Lots," he said, but could not quite meet the green eyes. He focused on Sean's lips, saw the smile.

Sean reached out, tilted Lijah's head up. "I need specifics," he said. "Ten? Fifty? A hundred? Once a day and twice on Sundays since you Pete hired you, what, nine months ago?"

Lijah opened his mouth to lie, then shrugged. "All right. Once."

Nodding, Sean said, "It can make a difference you know."

Crossing the room to the bed and opening the nightstand drawer, Sean pulled out a handful of condom packets and a tube which he dropped on the nightstand. He tossed the bedding back. Lijah thought distantly that he wouldn't have expected plain white sheets.

"Here," Sean said, picking up one of the pillows. "On the bed."

Lijah took his glasses off, folded them, set them down next to the lube. He climbed onto the bed, sheets smooth againsts his hands and knees. Sean's hand rubbed down Lijah's back, then Sean set the pillow down in front of and against Lijah's arms.

"Lean down, against the pillow."

Hugging the pillow, Lijah started to lie down on his belly, sliding his legs out, but Sean grabbed his hips, tugged him back up to his knees. "Ass up," he said.

Lijah mentally shrugged, pulled his knees under him, stuck his ass in the air, and sank down on the pillow, wrapping his arms around softness. His chin and nose sank into the pillow which smelled of Sean, and he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

Lijah's cock hardened even more, trapped between thighs and belly, and he shifted, trying to relieve some of the pressure.

"Spread your legs," Sean's hands, large, callouses rasping against sensitive skin, slid down Lijah's hips, pushed between his thighs, pressing them apart.

Lijah moved at Sean's direction, sliding his knees apart, shuddering as the hands gripped him, running down his thighs, then back up, fingers pressing between his legs. Lijah's arms spasmed around the pillow, and he moaned.

He felt the bed tilt, felt Sean's legs against his, felt the large hands slide up his ass, rubbing, pressing out, then nearly jumped out of his skin as wet warmness slid between his cheeks.

"What're you doing," Lijah's voice went high as, shit, it was Sean's tongue, licked back down, flat, gliding lower.

Stopping, puffs of breath cooling against damp skin, Sean said, breathing hard, "Do you really want me to stop for a lecture on terminology?"

"NO, fuck, no," Lijah said hastily, trying to spread his legs wider.

"Good," Sean said and pressed closer, tongue trailing over skin, then pushing, licking deeper, beard rasping against Lijah's skin. He felt dizzy, tried to breathe evenly, failed as the tip of Sean's tongue teased him, circling on his skin, then pushed in, hard. Lijah's breath left his lungs and he tried to thrust back.

He'd never felt anything like this, the sensation of pressure growing inside. Sean's hands gripped Lijah's hips, holding him still, as he licked and pushed deeper, but not deep enough. Lijah shook under Sean who pulled away and patted Lijah's ass.

Sean spoke, his exertion affecting his breathing. "Don't move," he said hoarsely.

Lijah nodded, gripped the pillow tighter, feeling the warmth behind him shift away, hearing various small noises, rustling, ripping, Sean's sigh, almost a moan.

A slick finger touched him, pushed in, pulled back, moved in deeper. Lijah tried to relax, arching his back slightly, wanting more, but Sean went no deeper, twisting his finger instead. Pleasure arced through Lijah and he bit the pillow, gasping.

Feeling the wetness dribbling against him, Lijah tensed, rocked back. "Fucking do it," he said. "Please?"

"You're bloody tight," Sean said, his finger still. "Just be patient."

Lijah tried to push back further, but Sean's other hand braced against him, held him still.

"Easy for you to say," Lijah gasped.

"No. It's not," a dark note threaded through Sean's voice. He pulled out, then slowly pushed two fingers in, working them in and out of Lijah. He breathed in time to the movement, tried to count the seconds, lost track, felt pressure tightening his balls.

An uncounted time later, Sean slid his hands around Lijah's legs, pushing them wider. Warm bluntness rested against Lijah and he hitched back, aching, pleading without words. Finally, the slick bulk breached him, pain brief and sharp at first, soon lost in the storm of sensation.

Sean moved in him, deeper, thrusting harder, arms sliding round Lijah's body, damp skin sliding over his. Pushing up against the weight, Lijah felt Sean tense, knees spreading Lijah's further out, pushing him down. Lijah released the pillow, sliding forward to lie flat on his belly, the change in position sending gold fire blazing up his spine and out his cock as he spasmed under Sean, shouting, clenching around him.

Faster and harder, Sean fucked him, afterwaves of pleasure settling deep in Lijah's belly, satisfying all hunger. He luxuriated in the deep movements until, finally, Sean tensed against him, trembling, spilling into him, collapsing against him.

Lijah stirred as Sean's weight shifted off him, pressing against his side, as fingers slid through his damp hair, tugging at a knot, teasing it out.

"Well," Sean said, voice slow, breath warm against Lijah's shoulder.

"Ummmmm-hmmmmmmm," Lijah said, eyes shut, body loose and warm.

A vague memory stirred, and he forced his eyes open. Sean was so close that even Lijah could see his face clearly, the light behind him glinting through his hair.

Lijah licked his lips. Spoke. "I think. My brains are. Still in there."

Sean laughed, muscles trembling against Lijah's skin. "Fuck, mate, the night is young. Let's sleep a while and I'll see what I can do about that."

*******

Lijah woke slowly, luxuriating in the ease as he stretched, back arching, arms reaching high above his head. He felt wonderful. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so relaxed. Not since coming to New Zealand, certainly. He smiled, listening to the regular breathing next to him, and opened his eyes, sitting slowly.

Sean was sprawled on his left side, asleep. He had both pillows, one under his head, the other wrapped in his right arm. The bedding around them was a complete disaster, Lijah realized. The spread and the top sheet were rucked at the bottom of the bed. He had most of the blanket, with only a corner draped over Sean's hips and legs. Lijah grinned and lay down, turning on his right side which meant that his weight coming down on the blanket tugged it completely off Sean.

Careful, not wanting to wake him, Lijah rested his head on his arm, and just looked. Seeing Sean naked and sleeping for the first time, he realized, was one of the sexiest things he'd ever experienced. And considering the last twelve hours or so, that was saying something.

Sean's face, the part not buried in the pillow, was relaxed, his lips parted slighly. Even asleep, he looked as if he might move at any moment, his left arm reaching, almost touching Lijah, his hips canted, right leg drawn up, left straight out. Face, throat, neck, were lightly tanned, his hair rumpled. Several round bruises shadowed his neck. Lijah swallowed, remembering the taste and texture of Sean's skin.

They'd fallen asleep as soon as Sean had turned out the light the first time. But at one point, Lijah'd woken, pulled from sleep by Sean as he licked, then sucked the growing hardness of his cock. Lijah felt himself turning red as details swam back into memory. The memory of what Sean had done with just his mouth and hands made Lijah squirm. But that wasn't when Sean'd got the hickeys.

Even later, Lijah had wakened with a full bladder, regretting all the water he'd drunk at dinner. He'd groped his way out of bed and found the bathroom, used it, and returned without turning on lights or making too much noise. Nonetheless, Sean was awake and waiting for him, had reached out and pulled him down onto the bed, across Sean's body.

After a confused few moments, Lijah had found himself wrapped around Sean, sucking then biting, his neck. Sean had laughed, gripped Lijah, guided him up and across his hips without words, just the hard hands moving him. Under that urging, Lijah had spread his legs, let Sean position him then thrust inside.

Lijah shut his eyes, wrapped his hand around his erection, trembling.

"Starting without me?"

Shocked, Lijah opened his eyes. He saw Sean rising, braced on his arm, moving over him, one hand on Lijah's shoulder, pushing him over. Sean's other hand wrapped around Lijah's, flexing, releasing.

Ljahj gasped, arched into their combined grip, bucking against their joined hands, and Sean laughed.

Spreading his legs, Lijah watch Sean release him to lean over far enough to snag a packet off the nightstand. He ripped it open, and Lijah waited, impatient. Finally, Sean was ready.

"Here." Sean's hands slid under Lijah's knees and he curled willingly, legs wide, wrapping them around Sean's waist. His hands then slid under Lijah to lift him, part him.

Sean slid slowly in, movements like honey ribboning from a spoon on a summer morning, sweet and slow and languid, drawn out like a sunlit afternoon.

Sliding his ams around Sean's neck, pulling him down, Lijah licked along his chest, greedy to taste the marked flesh again, sucking hard as he flashed into sudden pleasure, wetness between them.

Sean cursed, thrust harder against Lijah, collapsed over him, breathing loud and uneven against him. They lay in silence until a loud buzz jolted through the room.

Sean moved enough to silence it, then curled back around Lijah. When he spoke, the rumble in his chest vibrated through Lijah's body. "Brains still in there?"

"Nnnnnnnnggggggghhhh."

"Good."

Sean rolled off Lijah, and stood, pulling him up out of the swamp of the bed. "'Cause if we don't get a move on now, we're going to be late."

"Huh?" Lijah clung to Sean's arm, legs rubbery.

Sean swatted him on the ass. "Shower. Breakfast. Then make-up," he said briskly. "We both have early calls, remember. We're supposed to be wrapping Parth Galen today."

Fuck, Lijah blinked and his brain suddenly started working again. They did.

"When did you set that alarm," he demanded.

"Yesterday when I got up, of course." Sean pushed him toward the bathroom. "Shower," he said again. "And I'll put together breakfast. Clothing is of course optional."

Lijah went. As he started the water running, he hoped for doughnuts.

 

* * * * * * *

That day, due to the strange logic of filmmaking, they were shooting the arrival at Parth Galen where the Fellowship would be broken. Boats, crew, camera operators, assistants, and the cast milled around in the chill air. As often happened, Pete was with another one of the units. Lijah couldn't remember offhand how many different film units were working at the moment. Lijah'd already been directed by Barrie and Fran. Today, it was Philippa.

Standing beside Sean, shivering, Lijah listened to her, clutching the paper she'd given them. He'd read over it, was glad there were no lines to learn in the next thirty seconds.

"We'll cover Lijah first, then Sean," Philippa said. "The Fellowship have just arrived at Parth Galen, after seeing the Argonath and crossing the water. You're leaving the boats, leaving the safety of the River. This is the turning point, the place the decision must be made, whether you'll go to Mordor or to Boromir's city. We've had to cut a lot of the dialogue, of course, but it's still important, still the climax. It's sunny out but you both feel a coldness despite the sun. Only the two of you can sense the approach of darkness in full day. Frodo is standing on shore, moving away, but Boromir is still in his boat after Merry and Pippin have disembarked. Each of you responds to the Ring, not knowing the other is responding. You're looking straight ahead, can't see each other, but you must show that you both feel it at the same moment. You're joined." Philippa linked her fingers, tugging slightly, to illustrate her point. "The Ring connects you. You're bound together, and this bit is the foreshadowing of what comes later when you meet in the woods. It's all in the body language. You have to feel it, have to convince us that Frodo feels Boromir inside him, that Boromir feels Frodo, that at this moment they're closer than any of the rest of the Fellowship. You both feel that some doom is approaching." Biting her lip, she looked at them, eyebrows raised.

Lijah swallowed, mouth too dry to say anything, and nodded.

When he took his place on the shifting sand, he saw that Boromir was standing directly in line of sight, just behind the camera, green eyes intent. The quirk of his lips was all Sean's.

At that moment, Lijah didn't think he'd have any trouble showing how Frodo felt connected to Boromir.

Bound.

**Author's Note:**

> Extra special thanks for help on the Molly Malone section and some beta work go to Caras_Galadhon


End file.
